


Dance like you've got diamonds

by WaveMaker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (because I wanted them to), BAMF Pansy Parkinson, Coming Out, Confusion around sexuality, Draco discovers group hugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, F/F, Feminist Hermione Granger, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Hand Jobs, Initially homophobic family member, Initially transphobic family member, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Ostracisation/Social Pariah, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, Sex While Using Polyjuice Potion, Significant events always happen on Draco's birthday, Suicide Attempt, Supportive Ginny Weasley, Supportive Hermione Granger, Trans Draco Malfoy, Transitioning, Vegan mac and cheese is the best comfort food, Witch-centric magic, Wizarding Pride, aborted suicide attempt, mtf!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaveMaker/pseuds/WaveMaker
Summary: It's eighth year, and everyone knows you don't talk to Malfoy.Malfoy is willing to do almost anything to be heard, to be seen for who she is - except have a panic attack in front of Granger and the Weaselette.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 28
Kudos: 107
Collections: HP Triad!Fest Presents: Poly!Mini Fest





	Dance like you've got diamonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheekyTorah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyTorah/gifts).



> Huge thanks to [Vivi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138) for their last-minute beta-read, and to [CheekyTorah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyTorah/pseuds/CheekyTorah) for the excellent prompt, the patient modding, and allowing me to have an extension.
> 
> This is my first fest and I have really enjoyed it, but deadlines just aren't my strong suit!
> 
> I also drew some inspiration from [this perfect face-cast photo](https://www.instagram.com/p/CA-XQE1jyqB/?igshid=1jdbj1au5va4c) (sadly I didn't find a way to include the foxes).

_Does my sexiness upset you?_  
_Does it come as a surprise_  
_That I dance like I've got diamonds_  
_At the meeting of my thighs?_

\- Maya Angelou, ‘[Still I Rise](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46446/still-i-rise)’

***

The last time Draco spoke was the first week of January. The word in question was “Goodbye,” to Narcissa, before returning to Hogwarts for spring term. That was over a month ago.

It was easier last term, because Blaise and Pansy were still at Hogwarts. But they had both actually learned things during sixth year, so they took the accelerated path to pass their NEWTs in December. There are no other eighth-year Slytherins.

It was also easier last term because the other students still registered Draco’s presence. It was in a very negative way, of course: spitting; hexing; glaring. Now, though, they ignore the Death Eater in their midst. Everyone knows the best way to express their disdain is to pretend Draco doesn’t exist.

And the final reason last term was easier was because, back then, Draco still hadn’t pin-pointed why she feels a constant need to crawl out of her own skin.

***

She wishes she was never born. She isn’t being dramatic, just accurate: it would be better if she had never existed.

But she does. And she’s too much of a coward to kill anyone, let alone herself, so she has to find a way forward.

Slytherins are ambitious and resourceful, she tells herself. They can find the advantage in every situation, even being ignored and depressed. The advantage turns out to be that she has nothing to lose. Which is why, on the night of the Valentine’s ball, she’s standing in Myrtle’s bathroom, wearing a dress.

It isn’t fancy. She transfigured it herself from her plainest black dress robes, but all she has managed to add is a square cut-out neckline and a slight cinch in the waist.

She thought Myrtle might be here, but Myrtle has avoided her since the start of seventh year. Hopefully the ghost is enjoying being a trend-setter.

Enough prevaricating. She clenches her fists, holds her breath, and lifts her eyes to the mirror. It isn’t - too bad. The dress looks a little severe, but silver embroidery glints on the sleeves. She’s grown her hair since last summer, and now it brushes her shoulders, framing her face. She wishes she knew a hairstyling charm for anything other than plastering it back. She pulls a strand of hair from each temple around her head and tilts her face. Yes - in this light, she could be - if people didn’t know her, perhaps, from a distance, they would see a girl.

Right. _Right_. This is it. She’ll show them not to ignore a Malfoy.

She sets her jaw, ignores her terror, and walks to the Great Hall.

No-one notices.

She lasts ten minutes. She forces herself to stand in a prominent position by the refreshments, but even those who glance her way don’t seem to see any difference. After an embarrassingly short time, her breathing is too fast and her vision foggy.

The bathroom door slams into the wall and she stumbles to a halt, staring at the mirror. Broad shoulders, prominent chin, boney face. The cartilage in her throat bobs obscenely as she gulps back tears. She wipes her eyes, but then whips her hand away, shuddering. Her cheek is rough with stubble.

What had she been _thinking_? No wonder no-one saw.

The familiar skin-crawling horror wells up, and she throws herself into a stall, sure she’s going to be sick, but no. Just an award-winning, garden-variety panic attack. She crams herself into the corner beside the cistern, digging her nails deep into the skin of her left fore-arm. Her pulse sounds loud in her ears, and why won’t it do her a favour and just _stop?_

“Excuse me, sorry - are you all right?”

Granger’s voice. _Shit_. She freezes, both hands covering her mouth, and cringes back further, the toilet lid digging into her side.

“Sorry, but it sounded like you might be hyperventilating? We just want to check you’re okay - ”

“ _Malfoy?!_ ”

She jerks her head up. Granger’s co-Head Girl is peering at her over the top of the neighbouring stall. Weaselette looks disgusted, but she _said her name_. She’s meeting her eyes.

“This is the _girl’s_ bathroom, Malfoy.”

Oh. Ouch. On second thoughts, maybe she prefers being ignored. The ironic thing is that she hadn’t even noticed - it was just the closest bathroom to the Great Hall.

“What are you doing here?”

Weaselette actually seems to expect an answer. She tries to remember how to talk.

“Er, nothing. No. Yes. The girl’s bathroom. Indeed. My apologies.”

She claws herself upright. A gentle layer of hopelessness settles over her, smoothing her features into a perfect Malfoy mask. Oddly, she feels absolutely calm.

She opens the stall door, gives Granger a stiff nod, and leaves.

The walk to the astronomy tower doesn’t seem to take long. She doesn’t tire climbing the stairs. She can’t really feel her body any more.

She climbs the parapet without hesitation. She doesn’t look down.

Her foot won’t take the last step.

 _Gods DAMN it_! Fuck! Why is she always, _always_ such a coward?

She blinks, and sees Dumbledore suspended before her.

She falls back onto the tower’s flagstones. She scrambles crab-wise until she hits the wall behind her, panic returning full-force. She nearly - she couldn’t - how dare she kill herself where _he_ died?

She’s squeezed into a tight ball when the co-Head Girls burst through the tower door, wands drawn. Granger’s dark cheeks are flushed from running up the stairs. Weaselette recovers first.

“But it said…” She frowns down at a ragged parchment.

“Poly… juice…” Granger pants.

Weaselette nods, and approaches, wand aloft.

“Listen, Cassiopeia. We know it’s you, okay? Who are you and what do you want?”

Her breath catches. She lifts her face from her knees.

“What did you call me?”

“Cassiopeia! Look, you can stop the act. You’re right here on this map, see?”

Weaselette turns the parchment around, tapping a spot near the top. Next to ‘Hermione Granger’ and ‘Ginny Weasley’ is - is…

“That’s me.” Her scalp tingles with shock; her hand twitches towards the impossible name.

Granger glances at the parapet.

“You weren’t going to - jump?”

“Wait, _what?_ ”

Weaselette’s shriek is ear-splitting. She shrinks back further against the wall. Granger narrows her eyes.

“Malfoy… are you… are you a girl?”

She starts to cry.

“This way, Malfoy, just through the portrait hole.”

“We’ll have some tea - Ginny and I are in the same dorm this year, it’s just up here…”

“… Huh.”

“What, Ginny?”

“No slide. The stairs stayed put. I guess Malfoy _is_ a girl, then.”

“Oh, you’re right! That’s so interesting - I wonder what charm it is? I’ve never heard of a gender-recognition spell apart from here in Hogwarts… It must have an element of mind-magic to it... unless it’s that Hogwarts itself recognises students at a more fundamental level?”

“Hey, Malfoy, don’t cry - ”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Malfoy, I didn’t mean to upset you - ”

“N-no, no - it’s j-just - H-Hogwarts can… can _s-see_ me…”

“Shush, Malfoy, it’s all right. Here, look - have my hanky - ”

“It’s okay. It’ll all be fine, you’ll see.”

“Here, have some tea. I’ve added a splash of calming potion, too. There we go, that’s better.”

“So, um… Is Cassiopeia your name now? Or do you prefer Cassie?”

“Oh dear.”

“ _S-s-sorry_ …”

“No, take your time, don’t worry. You clearly need a good cry.”

“Hermione… _how_ can Malfoy be a girl, though?”

“It’s because Malfoy is transgender. I read a book about LGBT issues last summer, because my cousin came out as gay.”

“W-what’s that? What is that word?”

“Transgender. Transsexual is another term, but I believe it’s not generally preferred in the community.”

“So, w-wait, there are… others?”

“Oh, yes, lots and _lots_ of others! I didn’t bring the book to Hogwarts, but I can write and get my parents to post it to me…”

“That would be - incredible, if you could, Granger. I - I don’t see why you would do such a thing, but - thank you.”

“Don’t worry, Hermione and I still think you’re a complete git, Malfoy. I guess it just turns out that you’re a female git.”

“A b-bitch, then?”

“Ha! Was that an actual sense of humour? Fred’ll be dancing in his grave.”

“You can return the favour to me and my fellow Muggle-borns by delaying the re-establishment of the pureblood supremacy for, oh, say a year post-graduation.”

“Yeah. And it might be good if at least one Weasley started acting like the war is over. So… you know, if you would like a bit of female company, I could sacrifice half an hour now and then.”

“Really? Well… company of any kind would be exceptionally welcome.”

“I did notice you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot.”

“Yes. That, and no-one even _looks_ at me. I haven’t spoken to a soul all term. It’s enough to make me wish Potter was here; at least he never ignored me.”

“Wow, Malfoy, you must be truly desperate. No wonder you want to throw yourself off the Astronomy tower!”

“ _Ginny!_ ”

“I feel a lot less inclined towards - that - already. Although I don’t see how I’m going to… I know I don’t deserve a good life, but this has been more than I can stand, honestly.”

“There _is_ a way forward, Malfoy, I promise you.”

“Yeah. Hermione and I’ll show you all about how to be a woman. Although we’re not really the experts…”

“Your internalised misogyny is showing, Ginny. There’s nothing wrong with being a woman who does sports, likes books, or never wears make-up.”

“Yes, I _know_ that, obviously, but I figure Malfoy here - Cassie, sorry - might want to learn about that kind of thing?”

“I - I - yes. I would. I - I really, really would.”

“That’s sorted, then. Maybe Lavender, Hermione?”

“Yes, she’ll be delighted, we can set something up for this weekend. Parvati too, she’s got a great sense of style.”

“Oh, I really don’t want to put anyone out - ”

“Are you kidding? They love giving makeovers, and you’ve got such a fine bone-structure, you’ll look stunning.”

“I doubt that, but - it would be nice to try. Properly. More than just my pathetic attempt to modify some old dress robes…”

“No, you’ve done a good job!”

“It’s certainly better than what mum can do, and she’s ace at most household spells.”

“It’s a great cut on you, very striking. Just a little too subtle.”

“Are you sure Patil and Brown would be willing? I’ll understand if not.”

“Well… maybe not, I suppose. But I don’t think they’ll be able to resist.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“Two thank yous in one conversation! You’ve definitely changed.”

“I wish I could change in a - more _physical_ way, too…”

“Oh, you can, Malfoy! I should have said before - the book said Muggles have got pretty good at sex-changes, nowadays. I’ve no idea about magical methods, but they should be more effective, right? I’ll have to do some research - we could meet in the library tomorrow, at lunch-time?”

“If you - if you don’t mind sparing the time, Granger…”

“Not at all! Permanent body modification is a branch of magic I’ve hardly studied before, it sounds fascinating…”

“In that case, yes. Please. Tomorrow lunchtime, then.”

“Excellent. Would you like to go back to the ball with Hermione and me?”

“No, thank you, I’m - quite tired. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“Well, we’ll walk you down, at least. I won’t feel right until I’ve seen you safely back to your dingy dungeon.”

“I’m not going to kill myself, Weasley.”

“That’s the spirit. If old No-Nose couldn’t break you, this won’t either!”

“Ha. Quite.”

“And you can call us by our first names, Cassie.”

“Oh.”

“Well, go on, then. This is a moment for the history books.”

“… Hermione. Ginevra - ”

“Ugh. Ginny, please.”

“Ginny. Thank you both. You have - no idea h-how much this means…”

“Hey, don’t go crying on us again, Cassie. Come on. Let’s go.”

****

“I really hate it when the library lets me down, but there doesn’t seem to be much here. I mean, there are a few curses, but they were meant to humiliate men by temporarily giving them a female body - because, obviously, being a woman was the _worst_ fate these wizards could _possibly_ imagine - and I really don’t like the idea of basing your transition on something designed with ill intent…”

“I know there are some Dark spells used in pureblood families which are meant to ensure you get a boy for an heir. I wouldn’t be surprised if father used one. Except in my case it didn’t stick properly, mentally at least…”

“Well - that could be true - but being transgender isn’t a curse, Cassie; it just happens sometimes. It doesn’t make you broken, you know.”

“Yeah. Right. I know.”

Still, Cassie writes to her mother, asking about it as subtly as she can. Narcissa insists that ‘Draco’ was never put under the influence of any Dark magic while in the womb.

***

“Cassie! I went to Andromeda’s this weekend, and I learned something really - ”

“Wait, Hermione. My _aunt_ Andromeda’s?”

“Yes - ”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Oh! Harry is Teddy’s godfather - your cousin - so it was hitting two bludgers with one bat to visit him there. _Anyway_ , Teddy is a Metamorphmagus, you know, and they have two base forms - one female, one male! How amazing is that? So I thought, well, maybe you have a recessive gene somewhere which might let you be a Metamorphmagus too…”

But it turns out that the Metamorphmagi abilities must have sprung up somehow from the Tonks line. Hermione wants Cassie to visit Andromeda with her, but Cassie refuses. Hermione makes sure she at least has Andromeda’s address.

***

“It pisses me off that you can transfigure yourself into a fucking _animal_ , but there’s literally _nothing_ available about permanent transfiguration of human body parts…”

“I’m sorry, Cassie. I know Hermione’s been working really hard to find something…”

“Oh, I know, I - didn’t mean to complain.”

“No, hey - you need to vent sometimes. I shouldn’t shut you down like that.”

“I’m just - I’m beginning to think that glamours are my only option, but they only affect looks, not how things actually _feel_ …”

“Yeah, plus you’ve got to be careful with glamours. It’s easy to get addicted to them. I know Romilda Vane never shows her true face at all any more, and I’m sure it can’t be healthy to never reveal your authentic self.”

“Yes, but in my case, my body _isn’t_ who I am!”

“I know. It’s such a paradox… you _are_ a woman, but you still need to transition to be your true self. That’s without even touching the whole mess around feminine beauty standards…”

In the end, Cassie starts using subtle glamours to smooth out her Adam’s apple and make her shoulders appear narrower. She resists using anything but make-up for her face, and finds wearing a padded bra helps more than the illusion of having breasts. She takes vicious pleasure in using Muggle foundation to paint over the Dark Mark each day.

***

Cassie stays at Hogwarts during the Easter holidays, citing her need to study for the NEWTs. She finally comes out to Narcissa in the same letter, and spends most of the holidays distracted and stressed while waiting for her reply. When it finally arrives, Narcissa addresses her letter ‘To my darling child.’ She avoids gendering Cassie at all throughout the letter, and says they can talk more deeply after exams are over. Cassie tries to be satisfied with that.

***

Yesterday was Cassie’s final NEWT exam. Today, she’s nineteen, and she’s having a quiet birthday brunch with Hermione and Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Her mother wants her home as soon as possible, so she is leaving that afternoon.

To her surprise, Parvati and Lavender join them. It turns out that they are giving her one final lesson-cum-makeover, “so you can graduate in style!”

Cassie thanks them profusely. Their offer is especially generous considering both women still have exams next week. She thanks Hermione and Ginny as well, correctly assuming they orchestrated the gift; Cassie told them both how nervous she is to see Narcissa again.

Cassie brings her packed trunk up to Gryffindor, and after an hour of educational pampering, she feels more confident than she thought she would. She’s wearing elegant dove-grey day robes befitting a pureblood witch (a present from Hermione and Ginny), with make-up to match - classy, but obvious enough to make a clear statement.

Her friends (friends!) walk with her all the way to the Headmistress’s office, and McGonagall greets her with a smile and a “Congratulations on the completion of your education, Miss Malfoy.” Cassie can only shake her hand, as she doesn’t trust her voice to stay steady. She is again surprised when all four of her fellow students give her tight farewell hugs. It is still odd to be included at all, let alone in more feminine rituals of affection.

“Good luck, Cassie,” Hermione says as she steps away, eyes bright.

Cassie gives them all a last look, hoping she is conveying her gratitude, before she throws the Floo powder and steps into the fireplace.

She finds her mother in the large parlour. When Narcissa sees Cassie, her smile wavers. Cassie only realises her chest was full of excited happiness when it starts to drain out of her.

“Darling! Welcome home. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, mother.”

Narcissa hesitates, then sits back down. Cassie blanches; her mother _always_ kisses her on the cheek. She sits on the opposite sofa and tries not to wring her hands together.

Cassie notices Narcissa glancing at the new robes, and braces herself, but no comment comes. Her mother leads the small talk about Cassie’s exams, and then insists on taking Cassie for a tour of the extensive remodelling throughout the manor. Cassie nods and smiles, but dread builds in her stomach.

They sit down again for afternoon tea in the sun room, complete with elaborate birthday cup-cakes.

“Well then, darling.”

Here it comes.

“Now you have graduated Hogwarts, it is time we discuss your role in the family. You are the Lord of the Manor, and as such - ”

“Um.”

Narcissa frowns. She raised Cassie to have better manners than to interrupt, but Cassie knows she has to correct her mother straight away.

“I’m not. I’m not the Lord of the Manor.”

Narcissa gives her a cool look over her teacup. “You are the Heir of the Malfoy line, are you not?”

Cassie quails. Why is her mother being deliberately obtuse? This is difficult enough already.

“Yes, I am, but I’m. I’m not a Lord. I’m a Lady.”

Narcissa laughs, a fake, simpering titter.

“Really, Draco, this nonsense has got to stop.”

The dread coalesces into a weight heavy enough to crush all the air out of her chest, but she forces herself to open her mouth.

“It’s not Draco, mother. It’s Cassiopeia.”

For the first time, Narcissa’s eyes flash with genuine emotion: anger.

“I gave you your name, Draco Lucius Malfoy. I trust you are not saying there is something wrong with it?”

Cassie’s breathing is becoming jerky. “No, there’s nothing wrong with it, but - ”

“I did not want to interfere while you were focusing on your studies, Draco, but this shameful experimentation has gone on long enough. I will not have you turn the Malfoy name into a laughing stock.”

Cassie feels as though Narcissa has hit her over the head; she is too stunned to move; but then her faithful temper comes to her rescue.

“Oh, my apologies! I thought father already did that, but no, apparently me being who I truly am is worse than genocide!”

Narcissa’s nostrils flare. “I am sorry to have to do this, but until you start exhibiting proper behaviour, I cannot allow you access to the family vaults or your inheritance.”

Cassie freezes. She stares at her mother for a long minute, but sees no mercy there. She knows she is not nearly strong enough to win this. She drops her eyes to her lap.

“I understand, mother.”

Cassie escapes to her room very soon after that. She opens her trunk, but not to unpack.

She presents herself at dinner with her hair slicked back, make-up removed, and wearing a set of dark-blue velvet robes her mother bought for her seventeenth birthday. They are luxurious; even Voldemort complimented them.

She doesn’t say a word throughout the meal, but Narcissa seems satisfied.

She would go to Pansy or Blaise, but they don’t know she’s a woman yet, and besides, they both live abroad. She contemplates returning to Hogwarts, but that seems like a failure, somehow.

There is only one other place she can think to go.

She arrives at Andromeda’s at midnight. She’s clutching the address Hermione wrote down for her months ago. She sent Andromeda an owl before dinner, but didn’t have time to wait for her reply. She prays that her aunt is as open-minded as she’s been told.

The door opens before she even gets her trunk down the drive. Luckily she has already seen photos of Andromeda, or her Bellatrix-shaped silhouette would have Cassie reaching for her wand.

“Mrs Tonks - I’m so sorry to impose - I hate to inconvenience you like this, but I find myself without - with no other family left.”

Andromeda steps out of the doorway, and the light from inside finally reveals her face. Her smile is kind and warm.

“Cassiopeia, I’ve wanted to meet you ever since you were born.”

***

She only stays at Andromeda’s for three weeks, but her time there acts like a restorative draught. She loves her baby cousin and her war-worn aunt. Her mother sends a few letters, but Andromeda deals with them on Cassie’s behalf with quiet, fierce protectiveness. Andromeda suggests, and Cassie agrees, that Cassie needs some time apart from Narcissa.

At the end of June the rest of the Hogwarts’ eighth years officially graduate, and Hermione promptly invites Cassie to move in to a flat with her and Ginny. Cassie hesitates, but when she questions their sincerity, Ginny treats her to a fine display of Weasley indignation, and Hermione proposes the acceptable compromise of a one-month trial period.

As soon as she arrives, Ginny and Hermione draw her into a group hug, and then serve her a huge mound of Hermione’s vegan macaroni cheese. Cassie knows before she finishes eating that she will love living here.

***

Pansy and Blaise come to see Cassie in mid-July. Cassie doesn’t know how to tell them about her new life, so she opts to show them instead. Blaise stares, seeming as nonplussed by her flat-mates as her clothes and make-up. Pansy, however, takes fewer than three seconds to recover.

“Darling, why didn’t you _tell_ me?” she screeches, and then flies at her, smothering her in a hug. Just as quickly she’s leaning back, the better to take her in. “Look at you! You look _gorgeous_. Where did you get those _boots?_ How long has this been going on? Come on, sit down, tell me _everything._ ”

Within five minutes they have swapped shoes, and Pansy is plotting a joint shopping trip while teaching her to walk in high-heels.

***

Hermione has not given up the search for permanent body-modification spells. She looks into how to get access to the Unspeakables’ archive, but she isn’t having much luck.

It is Andromeda who recognises the solution one day in late August, when Cassie is helping her tidy Grimmauld Place’s library.

It is called the Ceremony of the Sisterhood; it is an ancient fertility ritual, recorded in crabby handwriting in the Black commonplace book, a collection of household wisdom passed down from witch to witch for centuries. If it works, Cassie may even be able to bear children.

Hermione is furious when Cassie tells her.

“Of _course!_ I should have known! Why has no-one mentioned the existence of a rich oral history of female magic? No, don’t say it, the patriarchy, I know…”

The ceremony can only be performed on particularly auspicious days. Cassie will have to wait almost two years.

“Three times seven, you see - very magically powerful,” Andromeda says.

Some days her twenty-first birthday still seems very far away, but knowing an end will come makes everything a lot easier.

***

In early September, Ron and Hermione break up. Cassie knows Ron was livid upon discovering that ‘Draco’ was friends with his sister and girlfriend, but them living together seems to be more than he can tolerate. Cassie happens to catch a snippet of their argument as she scuttles past:

“Why won’t you move in with _me_ , though, Hermione? Harry’s gone back to Grimmauld, there’s room!”

“I told you, Ron, I want to try it this way for a year or two - so we both get the chance to live our own lives for a bit before we settle down - ”

“It sounds to me like you’re never going to want to settle down!”

“If you mean will I ever want to become a housewife, or start having babies before I’m even twenty-one, then yes!”

Later, Ginny and Cassie make their best attempt at Hermione’s vegan macaroni cheese. It seems to help.

***

Hermione goes a little off the rails during the autumn, but her version of rebellion involves a lot of militant feminism. She stops shaving and wearing bras, and starts marching in protests every other weekend. She even goes on a week-long retreat with other hard-core feminists, and comes back seeming a lot more grounded in herself. She calls a flat meeting and announces that she has found herself a Mind Healer, and encourages Ginny and Cassie to do the same. Cassie knows it’s a good idea, but she can’t bring herself to ask for that sort of help. She’s happier now than she’s been since she was ten, anyway.

***

Just after the start of the new millennium, Ginny tells Hermione and Cassie that she’s gay. Cassie is beyond honoured that she is one of the two people Ginny feels safe telling first.

Hermione and Cassie give Ginny endless pep talks before the Burrow Sunday lunch that week. Ginny leaves with her head held high, but comes back within an hour, crying. They’ve barely got her calm when Molly Floo-calls, and Hermione and Cassie listen at the living room door as she once again blunders her way into upsetting Ginny.

“Molly needs to _stop_ , now. Ginny needs a break,” whispers Hermione. “I think I should go in there.”

“No - let me do it. Molly already hates me. You go start the macaroni.”

Hermione gives Cassie a _look_ before heading to the kitchen - something like appraisal, or approval.

***

The day before Cassie turns twenty, she marches in the London Pride parade.

Hermione and Ginny organise the outing, and more people than Cassie expects turn up to march with them: Pansy and Blaise, both straight allies, like Hermione; Potter, looking awkward and boring in jeans and a t-shirt; Longbottom and Thomas, who are, yes, shyly holding hands; Charlie Weasley, wearing his normal dragon-hide trousers and jacket, but with rainbows painted across his bare, scarred, sculpted torso; Luna Lovegood, who happily announces she’s asexual; and, the biggest surprise, Millicent Bulstrode with her arm slung over Padma Patil’s shoulder. Cassie is so intoxicated by the excitement in the air that she goes so far as to join Pansy in giving Millie a group hug.

Cassie is not the only one that the jubilant atmosphere affects. After having the different flags explained to him, Potter buys one. His blush complements the pink-and-purple bisexual pride flag, which he swings over his shoulders as a makeshift cloak. Hermione and Ginny both launch themselves at him, squealing; it turns out not even they knew Potter’s sexuality. Charlie, Longbottom and Thomas all pull him into side-hugs and congratulatory back-slaps, and despite Potter’s embarrassment, he even has a smile for Cassie.

After two hours of dancing through the streets and shouting chants while surrounded by hundreds of like-minded queers, they are all hyped enough to seize on Ginny’s idea of marching down Diagon Alley. Potter looks nervous, but doesn’t object. Cassie steps closer to him as they break away from the parade to find a place to apparate.

“Don’t worry, Potter. Skeeter will be too busy going after me to even notice you’re there.”

Potter huffs a laugh. “God, I hate that woman. But it’ll be worth it. There are kids like us in Hogwarts right now, and they’ll see it’s all right to be who they are.”

Cassie’s throat clenches at ‘like us,’ so all she can manage in reply is a tight, “Yeah.”

Ginny gives them all a rousing speech before they enter the Leaky, and, despite extreme self-consciousness, they all stay determinedly raucous as they clap and chant their way to Gringott’s and back. By the time they return to the pub the _Prophet_ ’s photographers have turned up, and the whole group pulls outlandish poses, drunk on defiance.

They make their escape to Muggle London before more reporters close in, and Pansy announces it’s time for a drink (“All this making history is thirsty work.”). There is unanimous agreement, and they while away the rest of the afternoon in a Muggle beer garden, laughing together as if they’ve always been the best of friends.

It is Pansy, again, who declares the time now right for dancing, and their new-found camaraderie has enough momentum to carry everyone through the walk to a club nearby. The music is nothing like anything Cassie has ever heard, but she throws herself into the beat, bouncing in a cluster with the others.

After an hour Cassie excuses herself to the toilet. She grins when she spots Charlie pressing Potter against a wall in a dark corner, feeling giddy with goodwill towards them both. She forgets to be nervous as she enters the women’s bathroom, and the two Muggle girls inside answer her grin with smiles of their own.

Pansy catches her as she’s washing her hands, passing Cassie a phial of potion.

“Happy birthday, darling. Here’s your present.”

Cassie eyes the phial with suspicion. “What have you got me, witch?”

Pansy sighs, mock-offended. “It’s Polyjuice. With my hair in it.”

“Your - ?” Cassie looks at her, wide-eyed.

“Don’t look so surprised, Malfoy.” Her playful mask fades for a moment. “Listen, you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to, but I thought you might like to try - you know - having a different body for the night.”

Pansy and Cassie emerge from the bathroom as twins; they take the dance floor by storm. Both of them were always good at dancing, and they’ve picked up the Muggle moves with ease. It should have taken more time for Cassie to adjust from going from tall and lanky to short and curvy, but it just feels so unspeakably right. Pansy encourages her to run her hands over her new body, to explore her chest, her hips, her backside. “I want you to enjoy it _all_ ,” Pansy shouts over the music.

The hours blur into movement and Polyjuice shots and the glory of fitting in her skin. Most of the group have gone home by now, but Ginny and Hermione are still dancing with the two Pansies in a tight cluster. The real Pansy drags Ginny and Hermione into a corner, where a subtle _Muffliato_ lets them talk easily. Cassie watches from the dance floor, wondering what else Pansy can possibly be plotting.

They talk for quite a while. Hermione gets animated, but eventually settles down after turning away towards the wall for a second and then passing Pansy what looks like a galleon. Finally, Pansy looks over her shoulder at Cassie and, with a wicked smile, beckons her over.

Cassie joins them in their silent bubble and raises one of Pansy’s perfect eyebrows.

“I’ve arranged the final part of your present.”

Oh, she looks _so_ smug. Cassie plays along.

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

Pansy smirks.“An education.”

And with that, she strides back to the dance floor, wasting no time in hooking her finger into the collar of some brown-haired Muggle and dragging him further into the crowd.

Ginny, Hermione and Cassie apparate into their living room five minutes later. Hermione seems flustered, and Ginny is being all _giggly._

“All right. What does that harpy have you doing?”

Hermione takes another galleon from her pocket and places it on the coffee table. She doesn’t look at Cassie straight away. Cassie stares; it’s rare for Granger to be nervous.

“Merlin, what _is_ it?”

“Go on, Hermione!” Ginny giggles again, and Hermione glares at her.

“ _You_ tell her.”

“Okay.” Ginny beams, and grabs Cassie’s hands. “We’re going to show you how to masturbate!”

Cassie feels her jaw drop open, and is struck for a second by how clearly she can picture what she looks like from growing up with the sight: Pansy, stunned past all pretence.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, she is, and so was Pansy.” Hermione grimaces. “She gave you her full permission to touch her body in whatever way you want, and - well - to do it in front of us. I _told_ her that consent only works if you can withdraw it at any time,” she rushes on, “but she suggested a Protean charm, so - ” she points at the galleon - “she can tell us if she wants us to stop.”

Cassie manages a weak smile. It’s typical of Pansy to be both so outrageous and so generous, and equally typical of Hermione to carefully account for all the ethical bases.

“And you both _agreed_ to this?”

Ginny actually jumps up and down. “Are you kidding? _Obviously,_ Cass.”

Cassie stares wordlessly at Hermione, who squares her shoulders. “We did it at the feminist retreat. Every person with a vagina should get the chance to explore it properly.”

Ginny cackles. “Then you’re the expert, Herm! Guide us, oh great leader.”

“Just - are you sure you want this, Cassie?” Hermione asks. “Because you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

For a moment, Cassie hesitates. Even after being flat-mates for a year, her instinct is to never impose. What if masturbating together makes things awkward? But she’s still riding on the high of Pride, of dancing, of being in Pansy’s body.

“It’s my birthday, and I want to experience this female orgasm I’ve heard so much about. Let’s do it.”

They end up sat in a circle on the floor of the living room. Hermione conjures each of them a small hand mirror.

“Right. Knickers off, ladies,” Hermione says, business-like.

Hermione and Cassie hike up the skirts of their dresses to wiggle out of their underwear. Ginny stops giggling, and blushes a deep red as she does the same a moment later.

Cassie is beginning to feel excited now, if only intellectually. She has a vagina! Plus, this not being her real body helps a lot to reduce self-consciousness; she knows Pansy will be thrilled that Cassie followed through on her offer.

“So, you’ll need to spread your legs nice and wide, and take your mirror, and start by having a good look around,” says Hermione, settling into her lecture-voice.

Cassie obeys eagerly. Between Pansy’s luscious thighs she finds a cute, neat triangle of curly black hair, half-hiding a short slit in the flesh. That’s all she can see from above, so she switches to the mirror. The slit continues down, skin closed around whatever lies within.

“Oh, good, we’ve got several different lengths of labia here,” Hermione continues, and Cassie looks up. “Cassie, yours are short enough to stay completely enclosed, but you can see mine poke out, and Ginny, you’re somewhere in between.”

Cassie can see Hermione clearly, as Hermione is already spreading her labia apart with her fingers. The vulva is buried under an exuberant mass of curls, and below it, the dark pink folds of her inner labia mark a bold trail against her dark brown skin. A glance at Ginny shows that she goes to the trouble of keeping her pubic hair to one defined, rectangular strip, and also that she is hiding her face behind her curtain of ginger hair.

“I would _not_ have pegged you as the nervous one out of the three of us, Ginny.”

“Fuck off, Hermione.” Ginny’s voice sounds slightly breathy, but still carries venom.

Hermione laughs. “Okay, so, if you peel apart the labia like I’m doing, you’ll be able to find the entrance to the vagina at the bottom…”

Cassie gingerly uses her right hand to do so, while her left still holds the mirror. Her labia are a different to Hermione’s: more purple, and much smaller. Touching them feels weird; they are definitely sensitive and the slightest bit sticky, but Cassie doesn’t feel much aroused by it.

She finds the vagina, but doesn’t yet dare to place a finger inside. Hermione talks them through the placement of the urethra above that, and then, finally, the clitoris, nestled in the corner at the top.

Ginny seems to have skipped ahead in the lesson; she has put her mirror down and placed her whole hand over her groin, kneading the clitoris with the heel of her palm. She still has her hair over her face, but Cassie can see it puffing rhythmically away from her face as Ginny’s breathing picks up speed.

“So.” Hermione’s voice has lost some of its lecturing tone, but is still matter-of-fact. “I like to put a couple of fingers either side of the clitoris, like this, so I can gently move the hood back and forth…”

Cassie watches Hermione’s elegant fingers, then copies. She gasps at the sensation.

“Feels good, right?”

“Yeah - it does - kind of intense, though. How do you know when you’re turned on?”

Ginny chokes out a laugh. Hermione smiles, her chest rising and falling a bit faster than before, the V of her fingers still moving in a firm circle around her clitoris.

“Oh, you’ll know, don’t worry. The physiology is a bit different, though. I find it takes me a while to warm up, most of the time. And you don’t always get wet, either, that’s a myth, even if you’re turned on. But that’s what lube is for, right?”

“I - do not have that problem,” Ginny says on a gasp. “I - have the _opposite_ problem right now. I’m gonna - stain the carpet if I’m not careful…”

Cassie laughs. She puts down the mirror and goes by feel, letting the pads of her fingers dab against the soft tackiness of her labia, which tingles each time her fingers lift away. She lets her other hand drift up Pansy’s glorious body, taking a satisfying handful of breast and squeezing lightly.

Ginny’s knees fall further apart, her hand moving to massage her cunt in earnest, her panting abruptly audible.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” she gasps. “Oh Gods, those tits. Wish I could touch your tits, Cassie…”

Cassie is caught out by the shock of arousal. It makes her legs twitch and her breath catch. She starts dragging her fingers firmly through the folds of her labia, suddenly done with teasing herself. She can _hear_ the squishy sounds that Ginny’s hand is making. She must be sopping wet.

Hermione’s hair is getting messier; her head is tipped back against the seat of the armchair behind her. She has her eyes closed and is letting one leg move lazily across the carpet as her fingers speed up.

“It’s tragic how many - female-bodied people never experience an orgasm. _Ohhh_ , yes. Masturbation is an art-form, honestly.”

Hermione’s lips part on a groan, and Ginny hiccups a wail in response, losing all her reserve as she jams two fingers into herself and pumps in and out, looking desperate.

Cassie’s own breaths are loud, and at some point her whole cunt has become slick and hot. Every pass of her fingers over the swollen bump of her clit makes her shudder and grunt, and she is mesmerised by the sight in front of her. Ginny is flushed and gorgeous, biting her lip with her dress halfway up her toned stomach as she fucks herself; Hermione is all but writhing now, moaning as she tosses her head from side to side on the armchair’s cushion.

“Did you know - ” Hermione gasps out, “Clitoris is - only organ - in the body - purely for pleasure…”

“Oh Gods… you’re both so - fucking _hot_ …” Ginny almost sounds like she’s sobbing, before her back arches and her whole body seizes, one leg spasming across the carpet. She gives three short, high shouts of “Oh! _Oh! Ah!_ ”, remains frozen a moment longer, then collapses boneless against the sofa behind her.

Cassie feels muscles inside her clench in sympathy, and she finally plunges a finger into her vagina, heedless of Pansy’s long nails.

Ginny rolls her head across the sofa cushion to look at her, and gives her a slow smile. Hermione is now moaning low and loud on every out-breath, looking and sounding more and more animalistic as she writhes, but the V of her fingers around her clit still moves at a steady, disciplined, tortuous pace. Seeing Hermione both losing and staying in control sends red-hot flashes of heat across Cassie’s cunt; she adds another finger, pressing her shoulder blades back against the armchair for more leverage, her other hand still mashing her labia into her pulsing clit.

“Yes, Cassie… Like that…” Ginny murmurs. “Like Hermione - just let it happen - ”

Cassie can feel something approaching, like a wave on the horizon, the sensation building until she’s no longer in control of it. She digs her heels into the carpet, curls around her hands. Through glazed eyes, she can see Hermione kicking helplessly, one arm flung behind her to grip the arm of the armchair, and over her own gulping breaths she hears Hermione’s guttural “ _Uhhhh_ ” that goes on and on.

Cassie’s own orgasm crashes over her, and for one endless minute she drowns in pleasure.

Cassie has never had such a good gift. She goes to bed when the Polyjuice wears off, still sated and sleepy and thrumming with happiness.

The next morning, she stands by her bedroom door, angrily wiping away tears. The stupid crying has stopped her putting on any make-up. She gulps air until the tears stop, freshens her face with a charm, and heads out into the flat.

Hermione and Ginny are already in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to her birthday breakfast. They beam at her, and she manages a strained smile. Ginny makes a show of pulling out Cassie’s chair for her while Hermione loads her plate with croissants. Cassie’s throat physically burns from repressed emotion; she doesn’t know how she’s going to eat anything.

“Look, we made the front page!” Ginny says, bringing the _Prophet_ from the kitchen counter. The headline says _POTTER PRIDE: The Saviour leads march to change minds._ “And they didn’t even mangle our message too badly! How’s that for a birthday miracle?”

Cassie looks at the photo of them all, laughing and flushed with courage. She looks at her own cheerful face, daring to be female in front of the whole world.

The tears are back, inevitable. She stands abruptly, moving jerkily towards the safety of her bedroom, but Ginny catches her arm.

“What’s up, Cassie?”

It’s no use. The tears are coursing down her face, and her throat is going to implode if she doesn’t let herself cry. A great sob escapes.

“Oh, hey, Cassie! What’s wrong?” Hermione says, alarmed.

She tries to turn away, but Ginny’s wiry arms wrap around her from behind, hugging her close. The next moment Hermione hugs her from the front.

“Shush, Cassie, it’s okay… It’s okay…” Ginny murmurs in her ear.

“Is this - about what we did last night?” Hermione says tentatively.

“No! It’s just, I w-woke up and - ” Here she has to pause for sobs that shake her frame. “I - I - I _forgot!_ I th-thought I was a girl but then I saw the _m-mirror_ and I _remembered_ and I _fucking HATE THIS!_ ”

Both women hug her harder, and she unravels between them, all but howling into the top of Hermione’s head. Without them holding her, she would fall to the ground.

The outburst is violent, but thankfully short. Soon her sobs ease into shuddering breaths, and Hermione hands her a handkerchief, still without letting Cassie go. Cassie mops herself up, then buries her face back into Hermione’s hair, letting her breathing settle. The hug feels so safe, their strong grips so firm and patient. They stay like that for several more minutes, until Cassie feels calmer. In fact, they stay like that until she has space in her mind to register the way Ginny’s breasts are pressed into her back, and Hermione’s are crushed against her torso, and she barely stops her hips from automatically twitching forwards.

She stands up straight and gently detaches herself from their hold. Ginny squeezes her hand, and Hermione gets them all some tea, and her birthday continues quietly.

***

Her long-absent libido is back with a vengeance.

She masturbates three times on her birthday, and it doesn’t let up on the days following. Ginny’s muscled thigh pressing against hers on the sofa; Hermione licking her spoon clean at dinner; the glint in Ginny’s eye as she describes the latest outrageous decision by her Quidditch coach; and Cassie has to excuse herself to gasp into her pillow as she ruts against her mattress, hating how fucking _good_ her penis feels, remembering their - _sounds -_ oh, Gods - how they _came_ …

It’s a curse of the cruelest sort. Cassie crushes every impulse to reach out, to hold soft flesh, to pull Ginny against her, to kiss Hermione’s clever mouth. She becomes a master of strategic cushion-in-lap placement, and learns to stay silent when her breathing comes short and fast.

She hates herself more than ever. Hermione is straight, and Ginny only wanted her that night because she was wearing Pansy’s body. Cassie is awkward, gawky, and regularly bursts into tears upon seeing her own naked body. More to the point, she’s _Malfoy_. She’s always been greedy, but asking for this much would be beyond absurd, even for her.

***

A month or more goes by, and Ginny calls a flat meeting.

“I need to move out,” she says. “I can’t stand being around you.” Cassie reels. “I’m going mad with wanting you both, it’s getting ridiculous.” (… What?) “So I have to move out. It’ll be all right in a couple of months; we can be friends again as soon as I’ve got my head sorted.” (Wait, _what?_ ) “I know it’s a bit of a bother, but I’m afraid I can’t help it when you both insist on being such sexy devil-women.” And then Ginny _smirks_ at them both, entirely unfazed. “So, that’s that. Sorry to leave you in the lurch and everything. I’m going to pack.” And she waltzes off.

Hermione and Cassie just stare at each other. It’s a lot to take in. But amongst the swirling shock, her inner Slytherin fights for dominance, shouting: _Opportunity! Opportunity of a lifetime! Fucking_ seize _the fucking thing!_

She finds Ginny bent over her trunk, swiping a brisk hand across her cheek.

“Oh - Cassie - hi.” Her voice has lost its bravado, but it’s still steady. “Please ignore the tears - they are _not_ supposed to be there. I’ll be fine. Stupid feelings.”

“Your feelings are _not_ stupid.” Sudden nerves threaten to close her voice off, which is _not on_ , come now, Ginny already said she likes you! “I - I thought mine were, though.”

Ginny pauses, stares at her. “What do you mean?”

“I never thought you would want me back.”

“What?” A smile is stretching across Ginny’s beautiful face, disbelieving and radiant. “You daft sod, of course I do! I thought I made that pretty freaking obvious on your birthday…”

“I thought - I thought that was because I was Pansy - ”

“Oh, Cassie, no! No. Pansy has an amazing body, don’t get me wrong, but you are _stunning_ just as you are. You could have anyone you wanted, I promise you.” She steps around the trunk, a bit closer. “But - you want me?”

The words suddenly come easily. “Gods, _yes_ , Ginny. You and Hermione are the smartest, kindest, fucking - _hottest_ women I’ve ever known - ”

Ginny laughs, delighted. “Hermione too? You, too?”

Cassie shrugs. “How could I not? She’s _Hermione_.”

“Gods, I know, right?” Ginny takes hold of Cassie’s arm, a completely natural extension of her enthusiasm. “I was _warned_ about falling for straight girls, but _it’s Hermione_. I mean - what are we poor lesbians meant to _do_?”

“Mourn together, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Find solace in each other’s arms…” She glances away for a shy millisecond, then her laughing eyes are back on Cassie’s.

Cassie takes a deep breath. “So - you would be willing to actually try this, then? Even before… next June?”

“ _Yes_ , Malfoy, I would love to. Why the hell would I wait a whole year?”

“Well - you know - I don’t think certain parts of me will interest you very much in their current form…”

“Are you kidding? You think I won’t see you as a woman just because you have a penis?”

“Yeah, well - it’s one thing to know about it in the abstract, Ginny…”

Ginny eyes blaze, and she kisses her, except it’s more like Ginny _attacks_ her. She steps them backwards, presses Cassie into the wall by the door, and jams her taut thigh against Cassie’s groin. Cassie bucks involuntarily - Ginny feels so - so fucking - _amazing_ , she’s going to _lose it_ if she keeps going -

Ginny pulls back, and all but _growls_. “I. Can’t. _Wait_ to meet her, okay?”

“My penis is a her?”

“The rest of you is, right? Why shouldn’t she be a she, too?”

“Well. She is - _uh_ \- very keen to meet you.”

“First, though - “ Ginny reluctantly pulls away - “we should talk to Hermione. She deserves to know.”

Hermione is still sitting in the kitchen, looking miserable. Ginny grabs Cassie’s hand and tows her over.

“So, um, change of plan. Cassie and I are a couple now.”

Hermione looks up, then stares at their joined hands. It takes a few seconds longer than Cassie expects for Hermione to collect herself.

“Um - congratulations!”

Ginny coughs awkwardly.

“So… we thought we might stay, after all. If that’s okay with you.”

Hermione bites her lip, looking between them. Her voice has an edge of forced jollity when she says, “Good! I don’t want _either_ of you to move out, let alone both!”

“Great. Okay. Are you sure you don’t mind Cassie and I being…?”

“No, of course not! Why would I? I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found each other.” Hermione smiles, and Cassie _almost_ can’t detect its forced nature any more.

“Right, because - “ Ginny glances at Cassie, and seems to find some encouragement from the sight, “well, I know that you’re not into girls, but just to be clear about this, Hermione, you’re still welcome to join us.”

“I - I am?” Hermione suddenly looks uncertain, her beautiful face shocked and vulnerable. “You mean…?”

She looks at Cassie, asking without words.

Cassie feels a lurch in her chest, a panic; she never meant to be exposed like this; she never meant to tell Ginny _or_ Hermione…

But Hermione looks off-balance and she _never_ looks off-balance - she can handle baring her feelings for her -

“Yes, obviously, Granger.”

“It’s not obvious at all!”

“Not all of us are so blatantly Gryffindor about things. But yes, if it needs to be said, then, well: you are a queen among witches, Hermione, and you better not forget it.”

Hermione actually ducks her head for a moment, then gives her a watery smile. “You still didn’t actually reveal anything, you complete Slytherin. You just stated a fact.”

Ginny snorts. “Yeah, well, I’ve still never heard Cassie pay anyone a compliment before, either. In a more blatant fashion, then: we both fancy the tits off you, Hermione. How do you feel about that?”

“I - I don’t _know!_ ” Her voice breaks into a wail, and she buries her face in her hands, breathing far too fast. Cassie freezes, useless; she can hardly conceive of a world where the indomitable Granger breaks down, and she has no idea what to do.

Ginny doesn’t hesitate, squatting down next to Hermione’s chair and rubbing her leg. “Ssh, hey, Hermione, hey - can I give you a hug?”

Hermione gives a shaky nod, still buried in the safety of her hair. Ginny plonks herself down right on the kitchen floor and wraps her arms round Hermione’s legs. She glances up at Cassie, who is still stupidly frozen.

“Cassie, get over here.”

Cassie approaches and tentatively hugs Hermione from behind. It’s comforting when Hermione immediately clings to her forearm like a life-line.

“We didn’t mean to panic you, okay?” Ginny continues. “It’s _fine_ not to know what you’re feeling!”

They hug Hermione long enough to bring her back to herself. Cassie gets a crick in her back from bending over for so long, so once Hermione seems calmer, she lets go and makes some tea. Ginny shuffles herself into a chair and Cassie sits on the other side of the table, and they all cradle mugs for a while.

Ginny breaks the silence. “This is the trouble with you intellectual types, you know. All up in your own head for too long.”

Hermione smiles. “That’s _exactly_ it, though! It’s only since the retreat last year that I’ve had any meaningful sense of how to connect with my body at all, let alone - let alone engage with my sexuality, and I just… I’ve never had the chance to really explore it and I _don’t know_. I think I might like women? Maybe? And I really like you both, and I know I think you’re both beautiful, but I don’t know if that means I find you _attractive_ , and I’m really sorry…”

“Hey! No apologising, Hermione, it’s _okay…_ ” Ginny rubs Hermione’s arm and takes a slurp of her tea.

“Well, there’s an obvious solution to this.” Cassie feels self-conscious again when they both look at her, but she forces herself to sound confident anyway. “We need a trial period.”

***

Three days later, they’re squashed on the sofa watching a film. Hermione lies with her head in Cassie’s lap, and her legs curled in Ginny’s. There’s been more casual touching, more hugging, and even a date to a restaurant since the start of the trial period, but nothing more than that. They are moving at Hermione’s pace, which means Ginny and Cassie have also held off from doing anything more than giving each other heated looks.

Cassie has her right hand on Hermione’s shoulder, but Hermione is holding her left. In fact, she’s playing with it, slowly turning it over in front of her face. Then she starts running a finger down each of Cassie’s, as if fascinated. Cassie senses Ginny noticing; the air electrifies. Cassie’s breath comes faster, her lips tingle, and she can’t hear the film over the feeling of Hermione’s skin tracing hers.

Cassie feels the lovely weight of Hermione’s head move against her groin, and - crap - her penis is starting to stir. She tilts her hips away, a minute shift, but Hermione stops stroking Cassie’s finger. Cassie holds her breath.

Then Hermione brings Cassie’s hand to her mouth and kisses it chastely, right in the middle of the palm, then on the very tip of each finger. Hermione must feel the bulge growing behind her head, but Cassie can’t really care any more. A wave of lust makes her sit straighter; she wants to shudder from the strength of it. She can’t seem to move her gaze from Hermione, but she feels Ginny shift closer.

Hermione rolls onto her back and looks straight up into Cassie’s face. Cassie knows her eyes must be glazed, her lips wet and parted, her pale skin flushed. Hermione slowly takes the remote from the coffee table, and, without looking away, pauses the film. She turns her head and, very deliberately, nuzzles her face against Cassie’s hardness.

Cassie’s gasp is echoed by Ginny’s, and Cassie tears her eyes away to see Hermione grinding one heel expertly against Ginny’s vulva. Ginny looks up, and Cassie can see her own fervent feelings mirrored in Ginny’s wide brown eyes.

For several endless moments, all they do is pant into the silence of their living room as Hermione continues her ministrations. Then Hermione huffs out a hasty “Oh, God,” and scrambles up to kneel between them, looking wildly at Ginny before swinging back towards Cassie.

“I want to touch you both - can I - ?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Ginny yelps, already squirming out of her jeans.

Hermione is panting, now. “Cassie - is it okay…?”

Cassie feels one perfect slice of fear pierce her chest, and then it’s gone. “Yeah. Yes.”

She fumbles her trousers open. Ginny scoots closer still, so Hermione is wedged in firmly from both sides, facing them. Hermione’s right hand wraps around Cassie’s penis as soon as it’s free, and Cassie sees Hermione’s left hand disappear between Ginny’s thighs.

Cassie arches off the sofa, a half-shout leaving her at the same time as Ginny convulses. Somehow Cassie finds Ginny’s hand and grips it for dear life. Ginny slumps sideways, her head landing on Cassie’s shoulder, where she buries her tortured little grunts and moans in Cassie’s neck. The puffs of her warm breath, the _sound_ of her, sets Cassie off nearly as much as Hermione’s _hot-tight-perfect-slow-uhhhh_ squeeze along her shaft, and she slips further down the sofa-back, bucking helplessly.

Ginny starts gasping a stream of obscenities - “Fuck, fuck, oh Gods, oh, _oh_ _fuck_ ,” - into Cassie’s ear, and Cassie sees that Ginny now has her legs apart, and Hermione is working two elegant brown fingers in and out of her sopping wet pussy. Cassie whips her gaze back to Hermione’s face or she _will_ come right fucking now, despite Hermione’s tortuously slow strokes.

Cassie reaches to fist a handful of Hermione’s skirt, looking the question she is too breathless to ask.

“No,” breathes Hermione, “not this time - just you - you two - oh, God, wanna make you come…”

“Please, yes, _yes_ ,” Cassie whines, feverish, and then Hermione is kissing her, and Ginny’s cussing sounds like sobbing, and Cassie feels the unbearable pleasure form into a fast-burning fuse inside her.

Hermione turns to Ginny; Ginny kisses Hermione with desperate abandon. Cassie fights to keep watching them as her orgasm detonates like a bomb.

***

The last time Cassie spoke was the last week of April. That was over a month ago.

It’s easier this time, because it’s part of her preparations for the Ceremony of the Sisterhood. Ginny and Hermione are always with her, including her even as they help her remember not to speak.

This morning is her twenty-first birthday. She’s wearing a simple black gown, and she walks across the grass outside the Burrow in bare feet. She comes to a halt under a giant oak tree, in the centre of a large, seven-pointed star, which she painted herself.

Hermione and Ginny take their points first, beaming at her; Pansy sits at the point next to them, her eyes shining; Andromeda takes the point on the other side. Then Luna, the Maiden, sits in a cloud of yellow fabric; Minerva, the Crone, takes the opposite point across from her; and finally Molly, the Mother -

It's not Molly. It's Narcissa. She looks pale and sombre, and almost scared as she meets Cassie’s eyes. Cassie cannot speak; she can only nod, and smile, and let her mother see her tears flowing freely as she sits down, ready to begin.


End file.
